Dicing with Dinner
by Spirited Mare
Summary: She should have been concerned: as a fighter she fully understood the threat Pope posed. At the very least she should have been indifferent. What she definitely shouldn't have been was pleased. Pope's back, he's injured, Carly Hooper tries to serve him his dinner, it does not go well. Not yet established [Pope/OC]. T for language, Pope swears a little, he just can't help himself.


**Hey hey! So. Long time no see. But, I'm back and enjoying writing again, which is good because I've really missed it. This is just something that hit me whilst watching Falling Skies, and demanded to be written. I hope you guys like it!**

**Disclaimer: If you recognise it, then I don't own it.**

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**Setting: After S1 E7**

**Rating: T **

**Summary: She should have been concerned: as a fighter she fully understood the threat Pope posed. At the very least she should have been indifferent. What she definitely shouldn't have been was pleased. Carly Hooper attempts to serve Pope his dinner, it does not go well. **

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Like everyone else in the 2nd Mass, Carly Hooper was extremely surprised to hear that John Pope was not only returning, but had been injured trying to protect the children that had originally fled. After his very in character- if Maggie was to be believed- bike hijack and following disappearance, no one had expected to hear from him again. But now he was back, with a serious bullet wound in his leg for his troubles.

Carly should have been concerned: as a fighter she fully understood the threat Pope posed. At the very least she should have been indifferent. What she definitely shouldn't have been was pleased.

Since his abandonment, the resistance fighter had become jumpy and on edge, even compared to her usual semi-paranoid self. She was unable to settle or relax; it was as if something was constantly eating at her and despite trying everything she just couldn't shake it off. Carly had tried convincing herself it was because he was dangerous; that she'd rather have him where she could see him, and she was only relieved now because she knew exactly where he was. But no amount of thinking her feelings were purely out of protecting the 2nd Mass would make it true, especially when it was way off the mark.

This all left the red head standing in the doorway to the lab turned hospital, plucking up the courage to face Pope. She was irritated but not surprised to find she was nervous. In fact, nervous didn't even begin to cover it. Her hands were shaky and clammy regardless of her constant attempts to dry them by rubbing them down her torn up jeans. She could hear her heart thundering in her chest, like the hoof beat of a galloping horse. She was terrified of completely her duties, because today they involved checking on and serving dinner to a man who she deemed far more dangerous than the aliens they were fighting.

Leaning against the door frame, Carly sighed heavily. Before Pope had left she'd only spent a limited time with him, yet she'd gotten to know him much better than she initially intended to. She'd guarded his cell then watching over him as he cooked, making sure he wasn't adding anything he shouldn't be. And despite herself, she'd found the violent and apparently heartless criminal to be nothing like she'd imagined. He had tough outer shell, that was for sure. The thing was practically made of titanium. But Carly had seen underneath, if only for a second, when she'd told him his stew was the best thing she'd tasted since the invasion. From that moment she was a goner.

Before the war, Carly had always found herself drawn to the odd man out, alone and unwilling to open up to just about everyone. The less sociable and difficult, the better. For some reason, she always saw herself as the one person they would really trust. She could even relate to them, often being more of a loner than a social butterfly herself.

But now, she knew that it was easier to stay alive in the new world with help. Pope, on the other hand, had made it clear from the offset that he neither wanted to be there nor had any interest in aiding the rebellion. Granted he had been captured, but they hadn't killed him. Still, he didn't care about any of them.

It wasn't just that, though. The soldier had found Pope to be confident, opinionated, and more comfortable with a front of sarcasm and threats than being honest. A lot like herself. She'd been determined to treat him fairly yes, but somewhere along the line she'd ended up really caring. Carly could still recall the uncomfortable way her stomach had lurched when she'd heard that Pope had left.

"You coming over here at any point, Hooper?"

Snapping straight out of her thoughts, the female soldier scowled at the smug tone hailing from the bed next to the window. Striding over, she whipped the curtain back from the bed, all traces of nerves vanishing. Pope was sat, reclined on his pillows, injured leg propped up against even more cushions. She had no idea how he'd known it was her, or how he'd even known there was anyone there, but she certainly wasn't about to ask. His ego didn't need inflating any more.

"Don't flatter yourself into thinking I'm here to see you, Pope."

"You are though, aren't you?" Pope asked, one eyebrow raised in mirth.

Wanting nothing more than to wipe the growing smirk off of his face, Carly found verbal ammunition in the form of his blandly colored, quartered polo shirt.

"Which 40 year old virgin leant you that shirt?"

"I thought it was yours?" He shot back.

Carly felt the urge to laugh but instead just rolled her eyes.

"You haven't changed a bit, have you?" Carly accused, smiling as she did so.

"What would you want to change about this?" Pope asked in return, indicating himself.

Carly couldn't think of a anything.

"Everything?"

"You wound me, sweat heart."

"You've done a good enough job of that by yourself."

They both paused, glancing down at the thick white bandage concealing the bullet wound they both knew were there.

"Well, anyone who sides with those fuckers is an enemy in my book." Pope glanced up at Carly then, and for a second she caught a glimpse of what had dragged her into the conflicting tangle of emotions she was currently snared in. Then a wicked smirk overtook his countenance instead. "You're squeamish."

Horror flashed across Carly's face as Pope began to unwind the bandage.

"No! Stop! I mean, surely that must hurt?"

No response.

"Stop it before i gets infected!"

No response.

"Pope I swear to God if you don't stop now I'll-"

"You'll do what?" He asked.

The intensity of his gaze made Carly's heart skip a beat and her response died in her throat. Cursing her self, she forced her faltering tongue to form a reply, trying to ignore the way he was staring at her, brown eyes boring into blue.

"This."

Reaching out, she pressed down on the remaining layer of bandage around Pope's leg, watching in satisfaction as he hissed in pain. A victorious smirk stretched it's way across her face.

"That was uncalled for." Pope said, wincing.

Then suddenly he'd grabbed her wrist and forced it to the side of the bed, pulling Carly over so she was precariously balanced over the top of him, balancing on the tips of her toes. Stuck in place, she couldn't move or she'd collapse, and there was no way she was going to allow that to happen.

"Let. Me. Go."

She leveled Pope was an icy glare, but he wasn't affected in the slightest.

"Then you'd miss the fun," he smirked.

Before Carly had time to question the so called 'fun', Pope had whipped the rest of the bandage of with a flourish, chucking the wrapping at her to boot. Shrieking, Carly jumped backwards, or at least attempted to. Her wrist was still firmly held on the other side of the bed, and she managed to get her foot caught in the injured man's bedside table. The result was her whole body jerking upwards before slumping back down, her torso pressed against the bed and her legs stretched out behind her.

Put simply, Carly was thoroughly embarrassed.

Shoving herself off of the bed and pulling her hand from Pope's grip, the red head stepped back, glowering. For an apparent invalid, the man in question didn't appear to be in any pain as he laughed loudly.

"You're beyond impossible!" Carly snapped, too angry to care how silly she sounded.

"You're over dramatic." Came Pope's calm reply.

He was still grinning like an idiot though, only irritating the soldier further.

"Well, you're not getting any dinner today then are you?"

Immaturity wasn't a particular character trait of Carly's, however when it came to getting one up on someone, especially when that someone was Pope, she'd do just about anything.

"You wouldn't disobey an order. I heard Weaver and that doctor discussing what to do while I'm incapacitated," he scoffed at this, "and they agreed you'd do everything it wasn't essential the doctor did so she could concentrate on the harnessed kids."

"Try me." Carly challenged, before turning and walking away.

"That doctor won't be impressed with you!" He warned.

"I can handle Dr. Glass." Carly responded, grinning herself now. "See ya tomorrow, Pope."

Pope's muted curses followed Carly out of the room and down the corridor, and as she rubbed her wrist she could almost feel his hand clasped around it still.

Whether it was appropriate or not, and though she refused to admit it to herself, Carly really was pleased Pope was back.

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**So... How was it? It's been so long since I published anything, I must admit I'm very nervous! Please do tell me what you thought, good or bad, because I love to hear from my readers!**

**I'm seriously considering turning this into a series of one shots. I had lots of fun writing this, and I have many more ideas for these two!**

**Go on, leave a review, tell me your thoughts on this, and possible further one shots?**

**I love you all, thank you for reading, have a great day/night, wherever you are! :)**

**Spirited Mare**


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